


UGHHHHHH KING

by ticketlove



Category: Ticketlove(band)
Genre: M/M, maddie's GODLY writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticketlove/pseuds/ticketlove
Summary: this takes place sometime after whatever rai’s arc is i GUESS i don’t know . i just think this is cute and i wanted to write it u_____u don’t think about how canon it is





	UGHHHHHH KING

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place sometime after whatever rai’s arc is i GUESS i don’t know . i just think this is cute and i wanted to write it u_____u don’t think about how canon it is

****Hiroki implementing himself back into Rai’s life is….. well, it’s a process for sure. There’s a lot of compromise. Give and take. Rai gives more than he takes, for sure, but it’s fine. Little siblings are supposed to be able to get away with everything, right? (Hiroki is only 10 minutes younger, but Rai doesn’t let that get to him.) The rude remarks don’t stop, nor the pranks, nor the bad attitude, but Rai can tell that there’s no malice behind them, now, replaced by playfulness, the mischievous tricks of a younger brother. It’s nice. Familiar.

When Rai starts to bring Hiroki to the dorms, more often, and out with friends, Kihei and Hiroki form a strange bond, almost a type of camaraderie in their attempts to make Rai’s life a living hell. Well, at first, at least, before Hiroki shifted his ridicule to Ticket Love as a whole, and Kihei was no longer immune to his taunts and goading. One “Shut up, twink.” and suddenly Hiroki was dead to him. The dangers of hubris, or whatever. Rai didn’t really know what it was called. He hadn’t bothered to pay attention during his literature studies.

Kihei, when he heard it, had paused, for a moment, almost in disbelief. Like he was above Hiroki and his teasings. “What did you say?” Kihei asked, in an almost confused yet demanding way, scowling at Hiroki from the other end of the couch. He had been talking about his anniversary plans with Ryujiro and asking for advice from Rai, who sat in a wooden chair on the opposite side of the room. Things like “Where should we go?”, “What should I wear?” and the whole shabang. When the opportunity for potential drama arose, Rai picked his head up from where it had previously rested in his folded arms and looked with avid interest across the room, where he saw Kihei push himself to sit up.

“I _said,_ ” Hiroki began, again, shutting off his phone and putting it onto the armrest, and Rai got the feeling he had rolled his eyes, even if he couldn’t see it. Hiroki turned his head to face Kihei, making direct eye contact as he finished his (unnecessarily rude) thought. “Nobody cares about your stupid relationship, twink.” He gave a dramatic pause, a lavish of lemon juice in the open wound, as Kihei struggled to find words to chide back. “Get over yourself.” Rai snickered, a little bit, and Kihei’s eyes darted between the two of them. It felt good to see someone else put Kihei in his place, for once, instead of constantly enabling him or apologizing for him, or even both, like Ryujiro seemed to do. And Yamada was really no better, he acted more like a tired, single mom dealing with rowdy children than anything else.

It was only when Rai saw Kihei reach under his shirt into the waistband of his pants to grab his balisong knife did he scramble over to the couch, knocking over the chair he was sitting in on the way there. Rai heard the sound of metal on metal, and a sharp inhale (probably on Hiroki’s part) and then suddenly the knife was unsheathed, held in Kihei’s hand like one would hold a pencil, the sharp edge aimed straight for Hiroki’s throat. “KIHEI, KIHEI NO, NO, LISTEN TO ME, KIHEI-“ Rai yelled out, struggling to climb the back of the couch and tackle Kihei to the ground before anything serious could happen. They both went tumbling down, as Kihei wasn’t prepared for the lunge, and before he could move Rai’s arm was briefly scratched by his knife, just light enough to cut skin but not deep enough to make it bleed, almost like a really bad paper cut.

Hiroki in his fear (though he would never admit that) had already gone scuttling back over the armrest of the couch to get out of the way, throwing himself over the edge and onto the floor, too, in the process. His eyes were glued to their struggle as Rai eventually pinned Kihei to the ground, his forearm against Kihei’s neck and his other hand on Kihei’s wrist, keeping his knife away from anyone it could hurt. “Let me go!” Kihei yells. “He deserves it!” If Kihei had been a few inches taller, maybe even if he just worked out a little more, he might have been able to get out, but he wasn’t, so alas, there he was, trapped under Rai, struggling to get himself free, in a pitiable way, flailing limbs and helpless cries.

Hiroki eventually got to his feet, watching with utmost horror and disbelief as Kihei kicked and slapped Rai in any way he could. “Get my phone.” Rai said, turning to look back at Hiroki, who, while confused, obeyed, and got the phone from where it had been on the kitchen table, without even having the common decency to pick up the overturned chair, though. Hiroki opened it, he simply guessed the password (Rai really wasn’t that complex. It only took a few tries). “There should be a contact in there named Ryujiro. Call him.” Rai was… well, acting somewhat ominous by saying that, but Hiroki went through the few contacts nonetheless until he was met with ‘Ryujiro’, with an icon of two boys, one he recognized as Kihei and one taller, with dark hair and clothes.

“Don’t you fucking dare- Rai. Rai, look at me. Just let me teach this stupid twunk a lesson. He thinks he’s better than me because he knows how to top.”

“He’s my brother?”

“And what about it?”

The phone rang once, twice, three times before Ryujiro picked up. Hiroki put the phone on speaker and squatted down besides Rai and Kihei, and Rai spoke up the moment he heard the confirmation the call had been answered, cutting off Ryujiro’s attempts at a friendly greeting. “Can you calm your shitty boyfriend down?” Kihei, at this point, had finally stopped struggling, but that still didn’t mean Rai trusted him enough to let him go free yet, especially since he still hadn’t given up that knife.

Ryujiro, on the other end, sounded a little sad, maybe a little disappointed. He must’ve been tired of this by now, Rai realizes, but there’s really nothing else they could’ve done about this. It always comes back to him, in the end, with Kihei. He’s his weak spot. “...What did he do this time?” He asked. It’s always something with this group. Always something, Rai knew he was probably thinking.

Hiroki is the one who starts with a blasphemous attempt at an explanation of the situation. “So,” He says, and the three others can already tell it’s going to be a long, exasperating story, “I’m just sitting there, minding my own business, right? And then your shitty little boyfriend here, he just starts talking and talking and talking about shit nobody even like, cares about, so I, to save Raimen and myself the pity of actually having to listen to this nonsense, say, ‘Hey, twink, shut up’. But then, suddenly I’m the bad guy when this little bitch nearly shanked me? I’m fucking done.” Several times throughout the length of the story Rai had to give Kihei a quick kick to stop him from interrupting, because he knew if the two of them had their way that conversation could’ve been a full-length debate that went on forever.

“So Kihei did that now, did he?” Ryujiro asked simply. Hiroki affirmed, feeling quite a bit high and mighty that Ryujiro hadn’t been as cold and conniving as his boyfriend had been. “Kihei… listen to me for a second, okay?”

Kihei turned his head to the side, shamefully, away from both Rai and Hiroki. “Okay.” He said, in confirmation.

“See? Atta boy. Just listen, alright?” Kihei was silent for a moment, for what felt like the first time all damn day. His face flushed a bright, deep red, and Rai could practically see sweat forming on his forehead. His grip on Kihei’s wrist loosened, slightly, but he doubted Kihei noticed. “If you’re nice~ I’ll take you out to that new mall you’ve been wanting to visit. I’ll get you anything you like, so be a good boy for me, ‘kay, babe?”

Kihei’s pinned hand dropped the knife he had been holding, first closing it with a simple twist and then letting it clamor to the ground. “Give…. give me the phone.” He said, his voice slightly shaking, and if Rai hadn’t known him already he might’ve been concerned (that’s probably why Hiroki was… well, looking at Kihei like he was some kind of alien). Rai obliged, taking the phone from Hiroki’s hand and trading it off before quickly picking up the knife on the ground in exchange. When Kihei was finally satisfied, the phone in his hand, Rai let go and got off him, sitting to the side and watching as Kihei took the phone off of speaker and held it up to his head, talking quietly into the microphone and smiling to himself.

“Your friends,” Hiroki started, and Rai couldn’t tell if he was about to vomit or holding back laughter, “are fucking freaks.”

* * *

Hiroki’s relationship with Yamada…. well, it’s different. Mostly in that it’s not really there when Rai isn’t. Well, Rai knows they hang out, sometimes, maybe? Rai knows they have, in fact, hung out, before, maybe multiple times, maybe once, he isn’t really all that interested in asking, though, because like, what if he got an answer he didn’t like? Haha. Funny.

Anyways. Hiroki and Yamada? They’re friends. Kind of. Not really. Acquaintances! Yes! That’s the word. They’re acquainted with each other.

Well. maybe a little more than that. Back when Rai had first introduced the two of them, and back when Rai had finally started making an effort to try to get along with Hiroki again, Hiroki had made it a point to always flirt with Yamada, and only ever in front of Rai. They didn’t really have a thing going, or at least Rai was pretty sure they didn’t, and even if they did it probably wasn’t anything special. Yamada seemed to have a lot of things. Hiroki couldn’t have been special. At first, Rai figured Hiroki was doing it to make him jealous, but when Hiroki started flirting with Yori, too, Rai confirmed that yes, Hiroki was just trying to get under his skin like the (wonderful, loving, amazing) shitty little brother that he was.

Yamada hadn’t really made any effort to reject him, though, either, but everyone eventually had their breaking point, and a hot and heavy attempted make-out session while watching The Conjuring was his.

It had been Hiroki’s idea, of course, to watch the scariest movie he could get his hands on, because he knew Rai would hate it, while also being too prideful to say no, he wouldn’t watch it because he was too afraid.  And so, of course, they ended up sprawled on the couch of the Ticket Love common room, with Yamada sitting in the middle seat, separating the two brothers, a wall, a barrier, a protection against what would otherwise probably be a developing fistfight. Rai had gotten all the blankets and pillows and plushies he had thought he would need for emotional support (under the guise of ‘comfort’, though it was always a tad bit cold in there), including his favorite nesoberi of his best boy from his favorite shoujo anime, a kuudere with white hair, for protection.

Hiroki teased him for it, of course, a sing-song of “You still sleep with stuffed animals, Raimen? How old are you? Eight?” drifted across the couch, and Rai could feel himself tense up but made every effort, every try to let his anger subside, to let it go, to give Hiroki every possible chance to redeem himself because, hey, he’d been through a lot too, this was a little justified maybe. The kid deserved the benefit of the doubt.

As the movie started playing, and Hiroki dimmed the lights, Rai hoped, Rai prayed that maybe, maybe they would be able to eat through this like normal people. Maybe Hiroki would actually stay silent and listen. Maybe Yamada would be a little scared and crawl into Rai’s arms for protection (even though Rai would, quite frankly, be more terrified than him, but who was he to complain if he got the opportunity to cop a feel). But, of course, why would things ever actually go Rai’s way? They wouldn’t, that’s the answer, and that’s why as the movie opened up and the first scene began, Rai heard a loud, fake, absolutely _annoying_ yawn and turned to watch as Hiroki stretched his arms out, up, over his head, and down, around, right onto Yamada’s shoulder, where it stayed, without any complaint from Yamada.

And Hiroki, of course, made eye contact with Rai the whole time, making sure he watched as Hiroki pulled Yamada into his chest. Yamada didn’t really budge, though, he didn’t need Hiroki to protect him or hold him, and it gave Rai a little bit of satisfaction when Hiroki gave up his pulling and just let his arm go lax on Yamada’s shoulder. Oh well. Hiroki probably still counted it as a victory, and Rai figured he would give him this one.

But that wasn’t enough. Wasn’t nearly enough. Once Hiroki got bored (which didn’t take very long, probably not more than another ten or fifteen minutes into the movie) he decided to make yet another advance on Yamada, this time leaning in to whisper in Yamada’s ear. He spoke loudly, though, and Rai could hear what he was saying despite the background noise of the movie and the distance between them. “I’m getting tired of this.” Hiroki had said, followed by… a suggestion. The suggestion itself was obscene, and Rai really wishes he hadn’t heard it, and based on Yamada’s expression, illuminated by the flashing and bright lights of the screen, he was getting tired of Hiroki, too. A hand came up to adjust Yamada’s glasses, even though they sat perfectly fine on his face. A nervous tick, Rai knew, seen time and time again. He was used to Yamada’s little habits by now. They were cute.

Yamada didn’t even bother turning to Hiroki when he spoke. “Hiroki,” He began, moving his hand away. “I’d appreciate it if you kept your own vulgar desires to yourself, for once, unless you have the intention for paying me for time wasted.” His words were cold, unrelenting, and Rai knew he really meant it. If Hiroki was willing to pay, Yamada would probably oblige, actually, but Hiroki would never be willing to give up his assets for the sake of a joke on Rai. Well… was he?

He wasn’t. “Hmm~?” Hiroki hummed, an attempt at recovery. “C’mon, lighten up a little.” He took a lock of Yamada’s hair between his fingers, playing with it a little bit before leaning his head in to give it a quick peck. “White hair is my favorite, you know.”

Yamada pulled himself away. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere. I’m not going to bend over backwards for your stupid joke against Rai. Leave me out of your sibling rivalry, alright?” Yamada unraveled himself from the blankets, shoving them back on the couch and into Hiroki’s lap (that he had previously half-occupied, pulled into against his better judgement). “I’m leaving.” He turned and left, making his way to his room, before looking back for a moment and saying, “Rai, are you coming or not? Unless you want to keep watching that?”

“No! No! I’m coming.” Rai said, surprised, as he gathered the things he had brought from his room in his arms, which was quite a struggle, actually, and trailed after Yamada, probably dropping a pillow or two on the way there, but he didn’t bother stopping to pick them up. “I’m sorry about him.” Rai said, when he had finally caught up, and Hiroki was left alone, yet again, as the movie played on the TV for the cold and empty couch.

“Well, I suppose we’re retiring for the night.” Yamada said, opening up the door to his and Rai’s shared room, not even bothering to look at Hiroki as he spoke, despite them being addressed for him. “Do you plan on sitting on our couch for the rest of the night? Kihei will most likely ask you to leave if you’re still here by the time he gets back.”

“Whatever,” Hiroki started, getting up, yet not even bothering to turn off the TV. Of course. It was a habit of his at home, too, always waiting for the maids to shut off lights, faucets, TVs behind him. “I’m getting out of here. I can’t stand looking at you clowns any longer, anyways.” He scowled, between them, before grabbing his jacket off its place on the ottoman and shrugging it on over his shoulders. He looked… a little sad, almost, Rai noticed. His lips curled in, his eyebrows scowled, his eyes were dark and his whole face looked tense. It…. it wasn’t a good look on him, for sure. Anger, loneliness, sadness, isolation, none of these things suited Hiroki.

“Hiroki, wait.” Rai said. He wasn’t just going to let it end like that, he just couldn’t, not after they had tried so hard, made so much progress. He had to keep working, keep trying. Maybe he would’ve let Hiroki go, before, but he just couldn’t, not now, not anymore.

Hiroki was already halfway out the door by the time Rai spoke, and he turned himself to look at the two of them, standing still across the room, unmoving. “Look, I’m sorry, alright, Yamada?” Hiroki relented. “It’s my bad.” It was a rare occurrence, seeing Hiroki apologize for once. It knocked the wind out of Rai, in a weird way, and he figured it really wasn’t his bratty little brother he was talking to, but a complex, sympathetic person. A human.

“I appreciate it, Hiroki.” Yamada smiled, not necessarily in a mean or mocking way, but a friendly, teasing way. It reminded Rai of something he might’ve done, too, if he weren’t utterly speechless at the exchange. “Finally swallowed your pride, for once?”

Hiroki groaned, turning his back to them once again. “Alright, shut up.” He said. His voice sounded tired, maybe, a little relieved. “I’m getting outta this shithole.”

* * *

Now, that story was all fine and dandy, but there was one little detail, one little thing, a tiny, minuscule little feature, like seasoning on the dish, the cherry on the sundae that he had passed, before, without notice, without thinking, that had, eventually, given some time, came back to bite him right in the ass, in fact it was at this very given moment. Hiroki was hardly ever serious, so Rai really hadn’t thought anything of it, but as he looks at the scene unfold around him all the little puzzle pieces finally seem to be clicking into place, one after one, to create the perfect scene of his own torment.

“So, we’re dating.” Yori says sweetly, innocently, like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest bomb Rai had ever heard in his life, like Rai isn’t absolutely shaking in his seat, trying to get back in touch with reality for even just a second.

Rai’s hand shakes as he reaches to grab his mug of hot chocolate that sits on the table in front of him. He feels rabid, like an animal, like he might just start foaming at the mouth at any moment and he would be none the wiser. “You’re…. you’re what now…?” He asks.

“Dating!” Yori smiles, and puts his hand over Hiroki’s, which had previously laid limp on the table, interlocking their fingers in some kind of romantic gesture. The whole scene— the two of them coming out as a couple as they sat at the kitchen table, waiting for breakfast— made Rai feel like a toddler being told he’s going to have a new baby brother.

“But… but why…?” Rai asked. Full sentences had long ago been discarded, replaced by empty questions and half finished thoughts.

Yori… didn’t have an answer for that. “Well… uh…” He starts, looking at Hiroki for some kind of comfort. Hiroki gave his hand a squeeze. “Because I love him…? I guess?” Yori really was trying, Rai would give him that, to lead the conversation, to make some kind of attempt at whatever this was, but it all just felt so surreal that Rai was convinced Hiroki was going to say it was all just a stupid prank any minute now, and Rai would just sigh and be relieved. But that didn’t happen.

Rai leaned back in his chair a bit, trying to bring some scrape of his usual charisma and confidence back. “Alright,” he opens, trying to psych himself up. “And how long has this been going on for?”

“A few months.” Hiroki says.

Yori chides in. “Maybe… maybe two? Two, I think.”

Rai falls back forward, the front two legs of his chair colliding with the ground, making a loud noise and startling Yori. “And I just find out like this? Barging into your room as you two have some… some kind of liaison?”

“It’s not like that!” Yori says, quickly. “We were going to tell you, but we were scared you were going to act, like… well, like this.”

“I think…” Rai gives a lavish, dramatic pause. “That I’m a little justified here. Am I not, Hiroki?”

Hiroki sighs, rolls his eyes, shrugs, a little bit of everything he can do to show Rai just how annoying he thinks he is. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal.” He says, nonchalant, and for some reason his tone just pisses Rai off even more.

“What even happened to that thing with—- oh, thank you.” Rai is interrupted as one of the maids comes in, rolling her serving tray, dropping off three plates of eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes, all cooked to perfection in front of them. How convenient, that Rai is of course the one to be interrupted. His anger is somewhat satiated once he starts shoving food in his mouth, but there are still a few more nagging thoughts that cross his mind. “What was that thing with Yamada about, then?” Rai asks, with a mouthful of pancake, topped with strawberries and syrup.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Rai!” The maid chimes on her way out, and Rai just grumbles angrily in response. Hiroki snickers, slightly, and Yori giggles, seemingly innocently.

“That,” Hiroki says, waving his fork around as he speaks. “Yori knew about. It was all just to mess with you. I thought you figured that out by now.” When he’s done talking, Hiroki grabs his knife and uses it, along with his fork, to lift his pancakes up, and drops them onto Yori’s plate. Yori watches with a satisfied smile and pours an extra helping of syrup on them. The domesticity of the whole scene makes Rai’s blood boil.

“Wait…” Rai pauses, for a moment. Thinking. He looks at Yori. Back at Hiroki. At Yori again. He keeps looking at Yori. One more minute.

**“So the thing about white hair was true!”**

Rai slams his hand down on the table, the silverware clattering where it makes contact with wood and Hiroki and Yori look up, quickly, in surprise. Rai looks rather self-satisfied, putting two and two together, but also…. he’d rather not have had this little victory if it meant things didn’t have to be like… well, like this. “Alright, Sherlock, let’s calm down.” Hiroki says, almost a little bit afraid of the pure, savage energy Rai exudes. “Do you want a Nobel Prize or something? Jesus.”

The rest of breakfast passes in relative silence, but once Hiroki finishes his plate he starts clinging to Yori, overly affectionate and just as annoying as ever, but the PDA was a little new. “Give me a bite of yours.” He says, turning to face Yori. Rai doesn’t even need to look and see to know that under the table he had his hand on Yori’s thigh. Absolutely disgusting. Maybe Kihei had some points with his homophobia.

“Hiroookiiiii…..” Yori trails, turning to face his… ‘boyfriend’.... “If you wanted some you should’ve just kept it for yourself.”

“It’s not as fun that way, though.” Hiroki smiles, devilishly handsome as always, though Rai is really only saying that because they have the exact same face, so he can’t really call him ugly. “C’mon…”

Yori does, eventually, decide to give in. “Ehhh…” He pouts, slightly, before agreeing. “Fine. Anything for you.” Yori brings a forkful of pancakes up to Hiroki’s mouth, and Rai is completely, utterly DISGUSTED at how much of a couple they seem to be. It’s almost convincing. Almost.

Rai can do nothing but watch in, in an emotion he can’t even begin to describe, as Yori continues to feed Hiroki, giggling most of the time like a little schoolgirl with her first crush. “You know, it’s kinda like an indirect kiss.” Yori says, as Hiroki swallows his, well, Rai wasn’t keeping count, he stopped around ten, so as Hiroki swallows his latest bite.

Rai, much like Yamada, has a breaking point, too. And it’s approaching, quite rapidly, as Hiroki says, “Why does it need to be indirect?” And leans in, closing the distance between himself and Yori, a quick peck on the lips (that does eventually turn into something more.) Yori’s face flushes bright red, and Rai can hear him let out a little mewl in— is that uncomfort or pleasure? He really can’t tell and he’s not sure he’d like the answer if he could.

It’s at this point, Rai decides, he’s done. “I’m done with this.” He says, standing up, quickly, slamming his hand on the table for the second time in the last 30 minutes. Finally, finally, Hiroki gets his tongue out of Yori’s throat and turns to look at him with a satisfied smirk. Rai decides to leave, and quickly, practically jogging out the door.

He’s halfway through the dining room before he processes Yori’s plead of, “Rai, wait!” but he doesn’t let it stop him. By the time Yori is standing up, Rai is already long gone, absolutely flabbergasted by the sheer abnormality of today’s events.

It’s not for another three months that Rai finally realizes they weren’t joking.

* * *

 

But, maybe the best part is, Rai doesn’t dread of going home anymore. He’s not afraid to see his father, or his mother, or any of the maids he left behind, because he’s not alone. It’s not ‘The World Against Rai’ whenever he comes back. He’s not constantly attacked on all sides for what he wears, how he walks, how he acts, who he is. He has an ally. Someone to talk to.

Family dinners aren’t nearly as awkward. Before, Rai remembers all the silent evenings spent eating in silence, only the clinking of silverware any auditorial sign of life in the room. But now, it’s different. It’s nice. Hiroki easily picks up the conversations where Rai leaves opportunities. They’re cracking jokes again. Their father laughs. It’s the first time Rai’s seen that in a long time. It’s good to have family. To be loved.

It’s important to give love, though, too.

“Hiroki, open up!” Rai says, knocking on Hiroki’s bedroom door, once, twice, three times, knocking to the best of a song he’s been practicing. He balances nervously on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight from left to right to left again and back. In his hand he holds two boxes, small, but valuable. Well, would invaluable be a better word? Rai doesn’t know, and it’s not really important.

Hiroki opens the door with a scowl. It’s morning. Rai must have woken him up. Hiroki would never willingly be up at this god forsaken time of—- what is it? 8 AM? “What does my favorite rat want?” Hiroki grumbles. Rai’s still a rat, but at least he’s his favorite.

Rai holds out one of the boxes, nervously. Hopefully it’s the right one. They have the same wrapping paper on them, and Rai didn’t remember which was which, he got them all mixed up in the nervousness of actually hyping himself up enough to get to this point. When Hiroki sees Rai’s anxious expression and the not-so-neatly-but-done-with-love hand wrapped boxes he steps aside to let Rai in. Rai takes a seat on Hiroki’s couch, placing the boxes on his coffee table. The perks of being rich. A lounge in your own bedroom.

Hiroki follows him over and picks up one of the boxes, shaking it slightly for a hint at what it might be. “What’s this for?” He asks, looking at Rai with raised eyebrows.

Well… there wasn’t really a reason, per se…. but Rai can’t just give him something like this out of the blue. God, why hadn’t he thought of something beforehand! What holidays were coming up? Fat Tuesday? Ash Wednesday? “It’s uhh… a daylight savings time gift.” Rai reasons. God almighty.

Hiroki looks confused, but he doesn’t question it. “Is this one mine?” He asks, and Rai nods. Hiroki slowly, carefully, unwraps the box, careful not to damage it along with the wrapping paper. It’s a somewhat useless endeavor, though, because the box isn’t actually all that important, it’s just a plain black, and gives no hint at what might be inside.

It’s a bracelet. With the letters H.S. on them, written in a beautiful calligraphy. It’s just gold, a plain and simple band. Hiroki wasn’t one to stress minor details and fancy designs, so Rai thought something more minimalistic might be best.

“Why does this say R.S. on it?” Hiroki asks. Rai quickly snatches the box out of his hands and shoves the other one back instead, taking the bracelet for himself and putting it around his wrist, snapping it into place.

Hiroki opens his gift (again), and takes the bracelet out (again), which is pretty much the exact same save for the initials. Hiroki looks at it, studies it, for a long, long, long time, and Rai begins to wonder if he won’t accept it. He can see why Hiroki wouldn’t— it’s a lot to unpack. A lot of memories they pushed aside. A lot of stuff they want to forget.

“Why?”

It’s a simple question, really, but Hiroki’s voice sounds like it might break as he asks it.

“Why did you… Why?”

“To replace the old ones, dummy.”

Hiroki clutches the bracelet in his hand, holding it tight, practically turning his knuckles white as he looks at Rai with shining eyes. “But… But i threw that one away. Why are you wasting your time on me?” He asks, again, still as confused as before.

Rai smiles at him, albeit a little sheepishly. “You’re still my little twin brother, after all.” He says, twirling his wrist this way and that to show off the new, shiny gold band that adorned it. It was a nice touch. It matches the streak he dyes into his hair, and it matches Hiroki’s eyes. And his eyes, too, if he bothers to take out his contact lenses.

Hiroki slips the bracelet onto his wrist, and looks at it, again, for a long, long, long time. He twists it, turns it, moves his wrist back and forth almost in an attempt to make sure it’s real, that it’s not going to phase through his arm and fall into the earth, that it won’t grow legs and walk away. That Rai won’t snatch it back and laugh at him. “Rai…” He says, and his voice cracks for real this time. Rai pretends he doesn’t notice.

 

“Thank you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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